Tonight, I want to step away from the high-powered blog posts dispensing advice and remind (or inform) my readers, I am human.
My children are a blessing to me, even when I feel like the baldness and insanity is hereditary, in reverse. I had six, and my husband left me four in his will. Yes, ten altogether. Add to that two grandsons, Jayden and Caden (no the rhyme was not a plan), and one more grandchild on the way. You see, I am trying to take over the world.
Some of you close to the scenes know the littlest one is gone. Not abducted, not adopted out, not a runaway, dead… not to put too fine a point on it. Her death changed the way I view the world and tested my concept of tolerance to its breaking point.
Specificity is the rule. Rules over.
Temper. Patience. Tolerance. Patience. Rage. Patience. Tolerance. Patience. Temper. If I was really smart, I would come up with an anagram which means: “Red” is for more than my hair color.
Pragmatic. Intelligent. Diligent. Erudite. Diverse. Sarcastic. Comic. Compassionate. I only claim three of these in public, but they are my favorites from the biographies written about me.
I am no different than anyone else. Everyday, I wake up (or am dragged from a dream) to ready my youngest, autistic children for homeschool. I cook. I clean. I play on social media. I write. I read. And at the end of the day, I collapse, exhausted but fulfilled. And tomorrow I will do it again. It is my job. I am “Momma”.
Having been to the bottom before, I am firm in recognizing the good in my life. It appears from many sources. And on the days when I am slipping toward the abyss, I need go no further than my BlackBerry to know I am loved. This is an upswing. Ride it with me.
Until next time,